7am in the airport, can't keep open sleepy eyes pat a steady rhythm on his stomach, little head lolling to the side on his father's knee, comfort he finds on the board the planes are running late, half-eaten sandwich on my plate I remember being so small, and feeling that reassuring weight of my dad's hand, when it spanned the side of my torso warming the cartoon ducklings on my shirt, I'm needing that comfort more so, the older I get I can't distinguish this memory from a story I made up we're on a boat somewhere, the white seats glaring and you look tan and young salt water, not salt and pepper, in your hair (more pepper than salt in your hair) Now I'm facing adulthood, the passage of time unabated Mum lost her dad by his own hand, and you lost yours to the bottle like losing the earth beneath your feet Oh, I remember my dad's hand, when it spanned the side of my torso, warming the little ducklings on my shirt, I'm needing that comfort more so, the older I get, if our family breaks down, we'll hold on, even when it feels like its my fault, that comfort, I'm needing more so, the older I get